


Lieutenants at the Dine

by BorkMork



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Being Bros, Gen, Two government workers, broskis, dudes, helping each other out ye, lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorkMork/pseuds/BorkMork
Summary: “You’ve been on dates, sir. Come on, throw me a bone and give me some advice. She’s really starting to creep me out.”Jean listened in, waiting for the colonel’s response. All he could hear was silence. As if the man himself dropped dead from his chair. God, did the guy just kill the call on him? Is he really going to act like a jackass today? Before he could dial again, Mustang's voice came through. “Okay. Street and district.”“Louis, District Abelard.” He smiled, gripping the phone. “Thank you for doing this, Sir.”“Hm? Oh, I’m not going.”His cigarette fell to the floor. Damn, those are pricey. “Wait, you’re not?”“Of course not. Lieutenant Hawkeye is.”-When Jean needs help with a date, he is surprised to find Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye coming to the rescue.
Relationships: Jean Havoc & Riza Hawkeye
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	Lieutenants at the Dine

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Pokypup49](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokypup49/pseuds/Pokypup49) for being the beta on this one!

Jean Havoc had the experience when it came to dates. He knew what he was doing too. He knew to respect his dates, to give them time if there were schedule changes, and he definitely knew that being considerate of them was enough to cause an impression. It was better than being a dick, by far.

Sometimes his misfortunes were deserved, sometimes not. And Jean took each date in stride, always happy to pay for the meal, give flowers to the lucky miss, and overall having a fun time rather than stress over nothing. Often than not, it was hard to balance a love life with the type of work he did. He worked for the government, amongst intelligent people who wanted him pronto on the scene. It didn't help that he was one year deep into Colonel Mustang’s request of being his second lieutenant, who wouldn't hesitate to snatch his woman under his nose.

The dilemma always came to priority. Would he choose a woman over his job or choose a job over a woman? Knowing the current economy it was like pointing a pitchfork to his neck and telling him which hot coal to touch. But what could he do?

His team usually supported him and laughed their part when things got brutal just to ease him, but overall he knew what he was doing. Heyman’s little jokes and duking it out with the colonel always made him feel better — sometimes the bets were too much, but hey, they were fun while they lasted. It got him back in the dating game a couple of times, too.

The dating scene wasn't easy. Personality and looks were always mish-mashes and a tango of different things. He liked smart women, people who had prospects going for them no matter how society perceived them. It was all about the individual, the spirit, and who they were, but that limited his preferences big-time — and in a city like this, it was hard to make room.

The thing that he found a rarity, however, was girls who didn’t know when to quit it. Jean wasn’t the kind to be rude or even pissy when a woman rejected him — he wasn’t that kind of guy — but there were times when they clung to him, dragged him for another date he didn’t want, and it was hard to take them off because he didn’t want to be seen as the asshole in the situation. Jean didn’t want more crap than needed. 

So he found himself at the end of a phone booth outside of a restaurant. He had dialed himself in, fumbling with a spare quarter, biting down onto a newly-lit cigarette as the dial-up started.

“Come on, Mustang,” Jean cursed under his breath, trying not to tap his shoe. For all he knew, the woman inside the restaurant could be watching him, and that wasn't a comforting thought to think about.

The noise on the other end started up. The familiar grunt of his boss, dry and biting as ever, made him sigh in relief. “You do know this is the military line, right?”

“Look. I just need some help, sir.” He could feel himself reeling, unleashing all of his nervousness through the call. “Julia has asked me out on another date. She’s really cool and all but I’m not into her, and she won’t leave me alone even though I told her no.”

“Slow down.” The frustration was apparent, and Jean could just imagine him at his desk, angry that his beauty sleep got interrupted. “This isn’t a female advice column, you can’t just call this line anytime a date goes to hell.”

“This is the first time I called,” Jean hissed. “Seriously, she won’t leave me alone. I don’t know if she’s being naive or anything, but I don’t know how to break it to her at all. It’s like she’s ignoring what I said!”

“Then what are you coming to me for?”

He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. _Keep your voice low, Jean._ “You’ve been on dates, sir. Come on, throw me a bone and give me some advice. She’s really starting to creep me out.”

Jean listened in, waiting for the colonel’s response. All he could hear was silence. As if the man himself dropped dead from his chair. God, did the guy just kill the call on him? Is he really going to act like a jackass today? Before he could dial again, Mustang's voice came through. “Okay. Street and district.”

“Louis, District Abelard.” He smiled, gripping the phone. “Thank you for doing this, Sir.”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not going.”

His cigarette fell to the floor. Damn, those are pricey. “Wait, you’re not?”

“Of course not. Lieutenant Hawkeye is.”

“Wait, the lieutenant?” Since when did the lieutenant date? "You can't just order people to help me on dates! You're the officer with numerous flings under your belt, why not you!?"

"What was that?"

He held his tongue. "A ton of experience in the dating field. Respectively, sir."

There was a groan on the other end. “Look, I don’t have time to worry about your dating troubles, Havoc. Hawkeye’s already driving to you as we speak. Don’t waste her time.”

Before Havoc could protest the phone died, shifting back to its deafening tone. “Stupid,” he said, putting the phone back in its place.

He sighed, rubbing his temple. Jean knew that calling his military friends would be a hit or miss, but it was a lot better than asking the pub for help. The colonel had enough experience with women that he must've encountered this before, that was why he called, but to bring the lieutenant was baffling to him. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the guts to tell the woman no — she could do that without breaking a sweat. The problem was that he didn’t perceive her as the kind to give romance advice at all. Or to date someone with this type of temperance.

But what was done was done. The colonel sent her over, now he had to wait.

People shuffled in and out of the restaurant. Sometimes they passed wary glances at him as if he was loitering — he was but he wasn’t going to tell them that — and his poor ass kept steady, tapping the frame of the telephone booth, waiting for the lieutenant to get him out of this mess. And as he waited more, he walked in to keep his date busy. 

There would always be this weird smile on her face whenever he excused himself, and it didn’t add to the anxiety he had climbing in his chest. No sane woman would think ‘I want a macaron’ as a proper excuse to leave, especially after the number of bathroom excuses he handed to her.

Why couldn't he just tell her no and she would leave him alone like any normal woman?

He looked up. A car had started to park next to him, headlights flickering off. The automobile was sleek and white — one of Mustang’s models that _didn’t_ get smashed up from that man’s terrible driving, and to see the iconic hair and barrette clip pop out from the driver’s seat was enough to make him relax. “Oh thank God, Hawkeye, you’re here.”

“At ease, Havoc.” The lieutenant raised a hand for a second. She didn’t seem irritated with the current situation, which was good. “You don’t have to salute.”

His arm dropped to the side. “Right, sorry. Never saw you out and about before, so this is new.” He never had much time to get used to her, too, even after being assigned to Mustang for a year.

“Uniform doesn’t help,” she mused, eyes narrowing into that thoughtful look of hers. She had the military blues on so it definitely didn't help. Looked like she was going to turn him in if the public didn't know any better. “I’ll mark this situation as casual."

Havoc smiled. The humor was able to ease him, just a little. “Yeah. Casual enough. Take off the coat though. This place is pretty fancy, people are gonna turn heads if the whole uniform's on."

Hawkeye nodded, unbuttoning her coat. "I would've had a change of clothes if the colonel didn't debrief me at the last second."

Havoc blinked. Right, Mustang must've told her everything. “Listen, you don’t have to do this, honest.”

“I’m fine, Havoc,” she reassured him. She placed the clothing into the car. “I’ve had experiences like this before. I should be able to assist.”

He blinked at her, almost losing a grip on his cigarette. “You’ve dated before?”

“More or less. Rebecca made sure I did.”

Havoc smiled to himself. Catalina would definitely be the catalyst for all this. Didn’t make sense not to be. “Jeez, Lieutenant. You get sucked into stuff often, I’ll make sure to help.” He was the one who got her into this mess anyway. Might as well be useful.

Riza smiled. “Right, I wouldn’t worry much about it, I could sympathize with this type of problem. Situations like this call for a third-party.” She glanced at the restaurant entrance. “Is she still inside?”

“I don’t even know at this point. She’s been inside for most of the date and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Alright.” The lieutenant peered through the windows. "Name?"

"Julia Wilbur."

“Appearance.”

“Brunette. Has curly hair. Wears a plaid polka. Cute clip.”

“Ah, I see her.” 

Jean glanced for a second too. He found Julia in the corner of the restaurant, seated just as he expected, but he turned away the moment he realized she was staring at him, at _them_.

Hawkeye gently pulled him away from the windows. Jean flinched at how steady her gaze was, as if they were analyzing every part of his discomforted body. “The colonel debriefed me, but I need more context than just telling him a woman was being pushy.”

He almost forgot about that. Havoc rubbed his neck. “Shit, right. Well, this is our second date.”

“Second.”

He nodded. “Really nice woman, liked to talk a lot about her business. That’s why I answered her invite.”

“There were no altercations before then?”

“Erm.” Havoc pulled a cigarette box out of his pocket. “I wouldn’t say altercations, she’s just an assertive woman, you know? I can’t say no to someone who’s got herself together.”

The lieutenant furrowed her eyebrows. “Havoc, I can’t help unless you’re honest with me.”

He stiffened, clicking his lighter. “I’m honest.”

“Then explain the cigarette.”

Havoc frowned. Smoke blared his vision in whisps, already easing him. “Well.” Of course, the first lieutenant was observant, he was an idiot to not think so. “Caught me red-handed there.”

“It’s better this way,” she said, frowning. “I don’t want to make this situation harder for you.”

That’s a good point. Havoc glimpsed at the window again, biting more into the cig butt. There wasn’t a point in-toeing around the lieutenant, she would probably serve his ass on a platter if he didn’t lay the facts straight. “So, before the second date, she would call my house.”

“How many?”

“Eh, enough to get my attention: thirty-three.”

Hawkeye seemed to stare out in thought, a hand on her chin.

Havoc continued on. “Said I owed her a date since she paid for the first dinner, even though the first dinner had her proposing to pay for everything.”

“Pushier than you claim.”

“What’s the difference between ‘pushy’ versus ‘pushier’?”

“Takes practice to know,” she said, sighing. “But continue.”

“I couldn’t really argue with her, she really wanted that second date. When I got the reservations settled, I wanted to tell her no during the dinner, but…”

The lieutenant looked at him, exasperation on her face, quickly replaced by a terrifying calm. “So you didn’t tell her beforehand.”

“When a woman pushes might as well give her flowers and run,” Havoc chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The stern look Hawkeye gave him was enough to make him scuff his shoes, like a child being lectured by his ever-stern mother. This was unfair. Was that what it felt like to be under the complete mercy of the Hawk’s Eye? No wonder Mustang doesn’t like to be chided by her — it was suffocating as was.

However, her formality came back, almost hard to hear. “We’re going inside. You’re going to be honest with her.”

Havoc choked. “What? Why me?”

“Because if you don’t cut her off then both of you will end up miserable,” she frowned more. “I don’t want that for you.”

Havoc bit his lip. The idea of telling Julia off was crazy. He wasn’t going to make a big deal over something like this, or be so direct that he would hurt her feelings for sure. But Hawkeye was right, however. Havoc couldn’t just hide behind some walls and random white lies. What was he thinking? He wasn’t going to chicken out of the truth, even if his mind told him no. He had to be better than that. After a moment, he sighed. “You’re right. Let’s sign my death warrant.”

Hawkeye nodded, looking back at the windows. “Alright, then let’s go.”

With a short breath and a snuffed cigarette, he got ushered through the doors. Everything smelt of meat, wood, and broth. Musicians played on their stage near the bar counters, violins drifting through the establishment as men and women clinked glasses, laughed, and talked the afternoon away. Everything looked normal, as much as a building could be, except for the unhappy face that sat beside his abandoned seat. Julia tapped her nails on the table, a sleek eyebrow quirked at the new body walking next to him.

_Alright, Jean. This is just a confrontation. Don’t panic, don’t panic._

…

 ** _Fuck._** _I’m panicking._

Julia sat up. Her frown bore into him, motioning a hand toward Hawkeye. “Jean, honey, who’s this woman?”

“That would be Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye,” he said, glancing at the lieutenant, hoping she would back him up. “A coworker of mine.”

Riza offered a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Wilbur."

Julia looked at Hawkeye, then at her palm. She burst into laughter, and for a second, Havoc saw Julia's confidence slip for a moment. “Okay, so why’s she here?”

“She’s just looking around, you know how it is—”

“I’ve been told that you’re giving him trouble.” Havoc, before he could interject, became silent at Hawkeye's gaze. It wasn't cold, but something about it looked serious, as if she was reassuring him with a simple look. “Other than that, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m just a mediator.”

“Is this a joke?” The woman looked between the two of them, voice steady like the glass in front of her — but Havoc was sure she was staring at him, with a chilling, all-knowing look that he grew used to. She was angry. Definitely angry. “Jean, what do we need a mediator for? We’re just having dinner.”

“Look, Julia.” He looked at Riza again. She gave him a knowing nod. But a part of him felt the pressure, and Julia’s stare didn’t do him any favors. “We don’t have to make a big fuss over this.”

“Then whom?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed at him, but the smile was still on, fragile despite her insistence. The question must’ve been directed at him — the accusation in her voice was clear. “It must be me or you wouldn’t have your coworker being a third wheel about this whole thing.”

His hand hovered his pocket. He needed a cig. “I didn’t bring her here to upset you.”

“Then what’s this all about?"

“Give him a minute to explain,” Riza said. “I can assure you that he’s a kind man, but he can’t answer about his discomfort if you keep assuming.”

“I’m not assuming, I’m just upset. When was _he_ upset?" Her voice was level, but somehow it appeared to rise. She was definitely pissed with him. "He agreed to the dinner and now he’s backing off? I don’t get it.”

“Excuse me.” A waitress shuffled between them, seeming to flinch at Julia’s glance. “If you plan to continue arguing we request for all of you to go outside.”

“No, no,” Julia asserted. “This will be settled in a minute, don’t worry.” She then looked back at him, his heart pumping against his chest. “Jean, tell it to my face.” Before he could retort, Julia narrowed her eyes at him, fists clenched to her sides in silent anger. ”Please.”

Sweat beaded down his forehead. It was cold, off-putting, and seeing the betrayal in Julia’s eyes was enough to make his chest swell and burn. Why did this have to be so damn hard? Why couldn’t he just yell the truth and get it over with? Because here he was, just standing there. And it was all because he was scared. So close to just giving in and leaving the situation entirely.

Hawkeye was right though, wasn’t she? He needed to get to the truth, to end this before it got worse. And even if it hurt in the end, he at least could ask the colonel for a day off. That wouldn’t be so bad...

With a heavy breath, Jean spoke: “I’m sorry, Julia, I should’ve told you earlier that I didn’t want to have a date with you.”

Her eyes grew wide, stunned. “What?”

“I can’t give you what you need,” Jean said, grimacing to himself. “You’re unwilling to compromise and accept my personal boundaries. I can’t be with someone who won’t respect who I am and my own feelings in return. That type of relationship just...sucks. I don’t want to be part of it.”

Julia stared at him and for the first time, Jean saw the ghost of a smile on Riza’s face. “Is...is that all?” 

Havoc nodded, breathing slowly. In and out. “It’s the truth. I can’t foot around it. I’m sorry.”

Julia continued to stare at him, eyes seeming to flicker with pain for a second before looking away. "Okay then. I'll leave you be." She snatched her purse, voice quivering. "I hope you have a good day, Jean."

Before he could object, she fled out of the restaurant, leaving him feeling worse for wear. 

Damn. Was he really that much of an asshole?

He flinched when a hand wrapped around his shoulder. Hawkeye was beside him, expression bittersweet as she patted him in condolence. "You want to sit down, Havoc?"

"Yeah…" Jean grimaced. "Let's do that."

Both of them sat down at the table, silent amid the restaurant galore. For Jean, there was an awfulness in his gut. It plucked at his innards, tethered him deep down, and when the waiter refilled their glasses, he gripped the cup tightly, hoping the frustration could be lifted somehow. The day was an utter disaster, and he was the reason for it.

After a moment, Hawkeye sighed. “It’s messy, I know.”

He downed the whole drink, ice and all. “Damn, that was brutal,” Jean mumbled, trying to focus on the cold shiver in his throat. “I’m a pretty heartless guy, huh?

“You’re not.” Riza frowned at him for a moment. “But you feel happier, don’t you?”

He placed his glass down, and looked at her, mouth slightly agape. “I guess. For a fucked up situation like this, I feel pretty good.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. "Ain't that something?"

Hawkeye took a sip from her glass. “I don’t see you as a bad person, Havoc. Far from it. It’s easy to get manipulated by someone, way too easily, unfortunately.”

Jean bit his lip.

“If I’m being honest, I’m also susceptible to it too.”

He looked up at her. First Lieutenant Hawkeye — The Hawk’s Eye — being easy to manipulate? It sounded out of left field, but the sternness in her tone wasn’t there anymore. What was left came the softness of someone who was apologetic. Understanding.

“I…” He gave a dry laugh, rubbing his neck. “Geez, that whole mess says otherwise.”

“Trust me, it’s hard.” She smiled at him. “There’s always a chance you’ll play along with them, especially if you’ve never encountered something like this before. It’s hard to get out of it when you have their sympathy.” Hawkeye sighed, clamping her hands together on the table. “You didn’t mean to hurt her. You were placed in a precarious situation where you were forced to respond. It’s hard to get back from it, but you did just fine.”

He pressed his face more into his hands. His brain was a jumbled mess at this point, but she was right. Julia pushed and pushed and pushed, and what he got in the end was just anger and the wanting to leave the conversation entirely. If he hadn’t stood his ground, he would continue to get hurt.

Jean chuckled to himself. “I forgot to say this but,“ he pulled out his wallet. He took out a piece, hoping the waiter could give him the receipt already. “Thanks for doing this, Hawkeye. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can repay me later.”

He smiled. "Oh, so we're doing favors now?"

"We don't," she chuckled. "Unless you want to."

"Knowing what you did today, definitely."

Both of them eased into their seats. Jean didn't know what to do now. Should he just pack up his stuff and leave? He didn't have much use here. Hawkeye spoke up, “You and Julia didn’t eat, correct?”

“Yeah?” Jean raised an eyebrow. How did she know? “What about that?”

“Well…” Hawkeye placed something onto the table. It was a grey wallet, weathered in a few corners, but still up and kicking. “When a date for me goes awry, Rebecca and I have a way to compensate for it.”

“Really?” he asked.

“A date with a friend is better than a bad one,” she admitted, placing a few cens onto the table. “Fifty-fifty is fine with you?”

“Huh? _Oh_.” Jean quickly peaked into his own wallet. “Right, right, yeah. Let’s not overload our budgets though. My pay doesn’t come in until Monday.”

The lieutenant laughed, nice and warm. “Gladly.”

The day was young and sickly sweet, and Havoc didn’t expect himself to be happy at the end of the day, but he was surprised to be proven wrong. He had gotten buzzed from a few glasses of wine already when he and Hawkeye started to talk. He told her stories of his own dating mishaps, and she — still to his awe — told him silly anecdotes of her own. Of other dates she had that sounded just as ridiculous as his. It was nice, actually, to smile at someone like her. Hawkeye didn’t look cold like when she was in the office, nor looked stiff whenever he tried to make a bad joke. She looked looser even with the military pants on — more comfortable and warm than he’d ever witnessed her to be. 

Or maybe she was always like that, and he just never noticed until now.

When both had finally departed from the restaurant, Riza allowed him to ride shotgun, to watch the sunset flit between roofs as he threatened to sleep into his shoulder. When she dropped him off at the base of his stairs, Jean waved goodbye at the departing car, hearing the clunky engine muffle to silence when it cut a corner onto a new street.

He turned to his apartment door, smiling as he ascended the stairs, mind still fuzzy when he walked into the lobby's warmth.

Riza was right. A date with a friend was a lot better than a bad one.


End file.
